


A Bit

by celeste9



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Drinking, Hugs, Missing Scene, Mornings, Multi, Pre-Relationship, Sharing Clothes, Sharing a Bed, Threesome - F/M/M, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-19
Updated: 2016-11-19
Packaged: 2018-08-29 05:06:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8476468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celeste9/pseuds/celeste9
Summary: When Luke wakes up he doesn’t know where he is. Everything feels too crowded, like he’s crammed into too small a space, except he doesn’t feel uncomfortable, exactly. (Aside from the pounding in his head, ugh. Apparently rebels knew how to throw a party.) He feels warm and safe, sprawled over something that doesn’t feel quite like a mattress, with something soft pressed against his back.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [culturevulture73](https://archiveofourown.org/users/culturevulture73/gifts).



> Not quite how they get together, but something like, anyway. :D

When Luke wakes up he doesn’t know where he is. Everything feels too crowded, like he’s crammed into too small a space, except he doesn’t feel uncomfortable, exactly. (Aside from the pounding in his head, ugh. Apparently rebels knew how to throw a party.) He feels warm and safe, sprawled over something that doesn’t feel quite like a mattress, with something soft pressed against his back.

“Can’t breathe, kid,” the something that isn’t a mattress says and Luke realizes it’s Han. He’s lying on top of Han.

He rolls back and hears an indignant yelp. “Luke!”

“Sorry!” Luke scrambles into a sitting position, making Leia wince again when he gets his hand caught in her hair. “Sorry, sorry.”

Han is laughing and Luke can feel the warmth in his cheeks. Leia rescues her long braid with a scowl.

Luke’s memories of the previous night are fuzzy. He remembers that they were celebrating, he remembers all the alcohol and the hugging and the crowd of mostly strangers. (Though, is someone still truly a stranger when you’ve just risked your lives together?) He remembers seeking out Leia and Han and he remembers Han mentioning the brandy he had in the _Falcon_. After that… Well, he thinks he drank a lot, and laughed a lot, and at some point they must have crashed here in Han’s bunk.

He’s wearing clothes that look slightly too big for him. He thinks he must have gotten them from Han.

“This is without a doubt the most uncomfortable bed I’ve ever slept in,” Leia says.

Han leans his back against the wall, facing them. “Well, sorry, princess, sorry that my ship doesn’t meet your exacting standards. No one told you you had to stay.”

“No arguing,” Luke moans. “My head can’t take it.”

“Aw, it’s the kid’s first hangover.”

“It’s not my first hangover!” Luke protests. He isn’t the baby Han seems to think he is. “Biggs had this knack for finding the best…”

And then Luke trails off, because _Biggs_. It hits him then, in a way it maybe hadn’t before. Biggs is _gone_. Just like Ben, just like Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru. 

He feels Leia press against him from behind, her cheek against the back of his shoulder, her arms around his waist. “I remember him. I didn’t know he was your friend. I’m sorry, Luke.”

Luke blinks back a tear because he won’t cry, he won’t. He thinks of Leia comforting him even though she lost her family, her entire planet, her whole world. She isn’t crying.

Luke thinks that Tatooine might still be part of the galaxy but he’s lost his whole world in a way, too. 

Han knocks his fist lightly against Luke’s shoulder. “Sorry, Luke.”

Shaking his head, Luke says, “No, it’s okay. I’m just being…”

Leia squeezes him tighter. “It’s okay to feel sad,” she says, and it’s almost like she’s giving herself permission, too.

It’s been hardly any time at all since the Empire destroyed Alderaan. Leia hasn’t even had time to grieve, so concerned with escaping, with destroying the Death Star, with aiding the Rebel Alliance. Luke wonders when she will allow herself a moment to mourn.

He wonders if she will let him be there for her because he realizes that he wants to be. He wants to help her.

“Is this the sort of sad that requires a drink?” Han asks. “Because I’ve got more of what we had last night.”

Luke laughs and Leia releases him, moving to get up from the bed.

“That’s enough drinking, I think,” she says. “We have a medal ceremony to attend, remember.”

Han groans. “What’ll it take to get me out of that?”

“You’re going,” Leia says, using the same tone she had when taking charge on the Death Star. She is so clearly a princess, a senator, and a rebel leader all at once.

Once again Luke thinks that she is easily the most remarkable woman he has ever known.

Han gives her a slow smile that’s got more than an edge of a smirk in it. “I ain’t part of your rebellion, princess. You can’t tell me what to do.”

A hint of pink rises in Leia’s cheeks, a spark of anger.

“You were part of it yesterday,” Luke hurriedly interrupts, hoping to assuage them both. “I couldn’t have made the shot without you. I’d probably be dead without you, Han. I think you deserve to be recognized for that, same as me.”

Han’s expression flickers, warring emotions that Luke can’t quite interpret. “Didn’t do it for the Rebellion. I just want that clear.”

Luke can’t help his wide smile. “I think you just admitted that you care about me.”

Leia makes this small amused noise from behind him. 

“Don’t let it go to your head,” Han mutters. He gets up, crawling past Luke close enough that Luke’s breath hitches for a second at the sense of anticipation that Han _could_ -

When Han gets to his feet on the floor, he stands too close to Leia, crowding her, making her have to tilt her head back so far it almost makes Luke’s neck ache in sympathy just to make eye contact.

She doesn’t move back, though.

“So what’s the dress code for this fancy shindig?” Han asks.

“Nicer than that,” Leia says with a disparaging look at Han’s rumpled clothes.

“What’ll I wear?” Luke bursts out, suddenly anxious. He doesn’t have anything but his filthy clothes from Tatooine, which, now that he thinks about it, he doesn’t actually know the location of, and the flight suit he borrowed. Or, he supposes, the clothes he slept in. Also borrowed.

“You can wear something of mine,” Han says, looking over at him. “I’m sure I’ve got a clean shirt around here somewhere that will suit.” Han’s gaze drops lower. “Pants clearly won’t fit though.”

“Wedge,” Leia supplies. “He’s about Luke’s size and I doubt he’d mind.”

“Pretty sure your whole damn movement would like to volunteer to dress Luke for this thing,” Han says with a grin. “Show their gratitude to the farm boy who saved their asses.”

“And what about the smuggler who saved mine?” Luke counters. “Pretty sure you’re getting a medal, too.”

“Yeah, well. The credits are what I was looking for; the medal’s just a piece of shiny jewelry.”

“Maybe you can sell it,” Leia says, her tone sharp. “Since it always comes back to money for you.”

“Money keeps me alive, princess.”

“Only barely, as far as I can tell.”

Luke thinks to himself that if they ever stopped arguing long enough to notice, Han and Leia would realize that they actually might like each other. The thought doesn’t bother him as much as it had back during their escape, somehow. He thinks… He thinks he might like… 

“You’re leaving, then,” Luke says, not even daring to turn it into a question. “Like you said you would. You came back, but that’s it, I guess? You get a medal pinned on you and then you’re gone with your reward?”

Han’s expression does something funny, this strange sort of quiver, but then it smoothes. “Like I said, kid. I’m not a rebel.”

“But you care about rebels.” That isn’t a question, either, because Luke already thinks he knows the answer.

Han came back for them.

Leia’s gaze flickers to Luke and he can almost feel her surprise.

“That was a onetime rescue, okay?” Han says, but he’s blustering, Luke can hear it in his voice. “Figured you could use the back-up. And now…”

“Now we don’t?” Leia prompts, arms crossed over her chest, eyebrow raised.

“There is no good answer to that, is there?”

“I just can’t believe you’re really gonna leave,” Luke says, not bothering to hide how crushed he is by that. 

“Well,” Han says, looking from Luke to Leia and back to Luke again. “Never said I was leaving _immediately_.”

Luke stares. “Huh?”

“I mean, there’s… there’s repairs, and things.” Han rubs the back of his head. “The _Falcon_ can always use a bit of work, and she’s just seen some action, obviously. Besides, you all are gonna be shipping out of this place after the ceremony, right? _Falcon_ ’s a freighter, might as well use her. That is, if that’d be helpful.”

Leia’s eyes are narrowed as though she thinks there’s a catch. “It would be.”

“There we are, then.” Han’s gaze is hopeful when it alights on Luke. “You get me a while longer, anyway.”

Luke throws himself at Han. Han staggers back, his arms going around Luke’s body as much to keep them standing as to return the hug. “Whoa, kid, easy, there.”

“You care,” Luke mumbles into Han’s neck.

Han rubs his back. He’s looking at Leia. Luke doesn’t know how he knows that, but he knows.

“Maybe a bit,” Han says quietly.

More than a bit, Luke knows.

But he’ll take this for now.


End file.
